My Protection
by Mitsuki Horenake
Summary: Germany is getting annoyed with protecting Italy.  So why does he still protect him?


**I don't own Hetalia whatsoever. If I did, my fanfiction would be canon and the Philippines would be in the show **_**(and Portugal, since one of my friends suggested a Portugal)**_**. And…yeah, I have no idea where this idea came out from.**

**/=+=/**

"Ve~~~good morning, Doitsu!"

"Sigh…good morning, Italy." He looked at the Italian charging toward him with a smile on his face. "You're extremely happy today."

"We have no meeting today, Doitsu! That means I can spend all day with you!" He chirped as he clung onto his arm. "Can I? Please, please, please?"

"You don't have to ask me for that…you already do, anyway."

"_**Yaaay~!"**_

Italy cuddled closer to him, making Germany blush. There were a lot of things that made no sense to the blond German. The first thing being that Italy loves to refer to him by his Japanese name and not his well-known name if not his real name _(it's Deutschland, if no one knew that)_. But the second thing was just how clingy this man was. What was up with Italy being so clingy? Does he…?

No.

**No.**

_**NO.**_

_Get that thought out of your mind, Germany!_ He screamed to himself. _There is no way something like that is possible!_

Was he seriously asking himself if Italy was in love with him? Sure, Germany had some weird thoughts toward this man for quite some time…but he had no idea what they were about. None of the books he would read would tell him any form of answer, and asking Italy upfront was as probable as setting up a Fourth Reich. It's just not going to work! He needed some type of proof…something he could work on…

"Doitsu…are you all right?"

He felt arms reach around Germany's waist and hugging him, making the poor blond blush. He couldn't turn around to see him, only feeling Italy's face rubbing into his back. It was way too much affection that he could handle in a month…if a year. Then again, Italians are best known to openly show affection like this. It was their tradition. Meanwhile, Germans don't show that much affection openly, keeping it usually in the home. Odd, since France was right next door.

"_Y-yeah, I'm fine…"_ He mumbled. "I was just thinking about what I should get from the grocery store today."

"Ve~~~you're out of milk and flour, if you want to add that." Italy smiled. "And I want to buy apples and eggs and sugar and-"

"Italy, _**why?"**_

"Uwaaaa! I-I…" He backed up and blushed. "I just wanted to make you something tonight…"

"Oh, um…OK then…" Germany rubbed the back of his head. "L-let me get ready first…then we'll go."

"Ve~~~OK!"

God, it was so annoying. If he wasn't so clingy…

**/=+=/**

Italy was waiting at Germany's door like a loyal dog when he was walking down ready to go. As he walked out of the door, Germany could hear Italy skip after him "ve-ing" in his eternal glory, oblivious to the fact that people were now staring at him.

"Italy, please stop skipping like that."

"Ve~~~all right, Doitsu…"

He stopped skipping and started walking next to Germany, making the blond blush yet again. What was up with this Italian boy making him blush? This obviously wasn't embarrassment, so…no, it can't be _**love**_, now can it? That's something Hungary would force upon every single man in the meeting hall.

"Doitsu, Doitsu! It's right there!" Italy pointed at the store. "There's the grocery shop!"

Germany sighed as he followed him into the store. Five seconds later, he realized that he had completely lost him. The blond sighed as he looked around for Italy. Sometimes he would see something that looked like a curl, but when he approached him he didn't see anything. Before he knew it, he found himself worrying about him.

"Italy? _**Italy?"**_

Where was that Italian boy anyway? Before he knew it, he found himself thinking if another nation had been in this exact grocery store and had kidnapped him yet again. His heart suddenly started racing as he looked through all of the aisles for any traces of the man. Soon, he found himself looking through all of the aisles and nothing that seemed to look like Italy was showing up.

_Italy…? Mein gott…where is he?_

"Ve~~~! Doitsu, where are you?"

He turned his head around to finally see Italy looking around with a grocery basket filled with food and with a worried look on his face. Germany's eyes widened as he started storming toward him, scaring the poor man, before grabbing his shoulders and catching his attention.

"Italy!"

"Ve~~~~! G-Germany!"

"There you are…geez, can you please stay with me while we're outside?" Germany sighed. "Before another nation comes out of nowhere and attacks you…"

"Um…O-OK…" Italy smiled. "Sorry…"

Germany couldn't help but smile at Italy's blush on his face before he led him back toward the front and paid for the groceries that Italy had decided to get him at the time, grumbling the entire time. Watching over Italy was such a pain, saving him every time he found himself in danger like he was a child. It was the most annoying thing in the world.

So why does he continue doing it without complaint?

**/=+=/**

"Ve~~~! What do you think, Doitsu?"

Germany was staring at the vast amount of food in front of him. It was a feast compared to how he used to eat: pasta bowls, salads, and what looked like chocolate cake…oh god, the chocolate cake. His stomach started grumbling so hard that it started eating itself, forcing him to take a fork and gulp down the biggest forkful he could handle.

"Well, Doitsu?"

"…not bad." He answered. "Just like always."

"Ve~~~! I'm so glad that Doitsu loves my cooking!"

Italy continued to eat the food in front of him, allowing Germany to watch him while he was eating. He looked like such a child, eating with a filled mouth and taking more than he can eat. He really was taking care of a child, wasn't he? Italy constantly surrenders, whines when in danger, and yet loves to exploit Germany for everything he has.

So why does he continue doing it without complaint?

It definitely wasn't for the exquisite cooking.

**/=+=/**

Germany looked at his reflection in the mirror as he was brushing his teeth. His eyes were starting to bag from stress and his blond hair could no longer be held up by the hair gel he liked putting in it _(again…Italy was the one who bought it for him…)_, making him sigh. The stress of protecting Italy was really getting to him.

As he walked out to his bedroom, he was surprised to see that Italy was already sleeping in his bed. It wasn't because Italy was in his bed, oh no. He was used to seeing that boy in his bed in the morning _(even with the guest room)_ that he almost enjoyed it. What surprised him was that Italy was in his bed **now**, and even then he wasn't bothering to hide himself. Why the sudden change?

_Well, there's nothing he could do about it now…_

He tried his best to sneak himself in his own bed, shifting it only when needed so that the Italian would not wake up, and then found himself looking at him. Italy looked so peaceful when he slept, nothing like his naïve self in his waking hours. Germany couldn't help but reach his hand out, wishing to caress his hair, when he stopped.

_Germany…what are you DOING?_

He lifted his hand and rubbed the back of his head. There he was, those strange thoughts going through his head. Since when does he suddenly want to hold him and play with his hair? Since when did _**that**_ sound weird? He had to stop hanging out with perverts. Damn that France to hell.

That's when he realized that Italy was twitching.

Germany stared at him as he was twitching and holding the pillow in his arms, whining and crying in broken Italian phrases. The blond reached to his arm to shake him awake when his hand was swatted away, startling him. Italy clung onto his pillow with tears in his eyes.

"_Mio dio...mio dio...salvarlo...per favore...__"_

_Save him…?_ Germany blinked, trying his best to translate his phrases. _Who is Italy trying to save…?_

Before he knew it, he was sobbing openly and clinging onto his pillow. No matter how hard Germany tried to shake him awake, he was moving away so fast as if he was trying to avoid something's attack. His cries were now echoing the entire room.

"_È__morto__...__mio__dio__, è __morto__...__no__, __non__può__essere__...__"_

_What's going on…? Who's dead?_ Germany continued to translate in his head. _Is he thinking about his grandfather…or Holy Roman Empire?_

"…_Doitsu…no…"_

That phrase stopped his thinking dead short. He was dreaming about Germany? The strange thought made his heart flutter, and then he knew what to do. Germany's instinct kicked in, and he clung at Italy, squeezing him tightly. Italy was sobbing and trying his best to fight his way out of the German's hard grip. Still he held on, trying his best to wake him up.

"_Wake up, Italy…you're just dreaming. Wake up…"_

Before he knew it, Italy resorted to just sobbing, Germany rubbing his back trying to wake him. Since when does it take forever to wake someone up? Germany took a deep breath before doing the last minute thing he could do: kiss his forehead. He felt Italy shiver for a few minutes before he opened his eyes and looked up.

"…_Doitsu?"_

"_Italy…are you all right?"_

"…_I'm all right…"_ He sobbed. _"Just…a bad…dream…"_

"_Italy…you're crying."_

He wiped a tear from his eyes, making Italy shake and curl up closer to him. It was then that Germany found his heart beating yet again and holding the Italian's body close to him. It was then that he understood everything. Italy was so hard to control, he always gets caught in someone's trap, and is always complaining about war.

So why does he continue doing it without complaint?

It definitely wasn't for the exquisite cooking.

It was because he loved him.

Germany rubbed his back, making Italy look up with watery eyes. The innocence in his eyes made his heart pain even more and caused him to hold him closer. Before he knew it, he pulled Italy up and lightly tapped his lips with his own. When he pulled away from him, he was surprised to see that Italy was smiling.

"_Doitsu…am I still dreaming…?"_

"_No…you're not."_

He smiled before they cuddled closer to each other, Italy's face in Germany's stomach. The blond could only smile at the innocence of the Italian. For the first time, he returned his love with his own.

**/=+=/**

"Wow, Italy! You actually got him to kiss you?"

"Ve~~~it wasn't that hard, Hungary…" He smiled. "I just had a bad dream, and he made it better."

"By…kissing you?"

"…I faked sleeping…"

"…_**I love you, **_Italy."

**/=+=/**

**This is weird…oh well. Read and review.**


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